


Happiness Is An Angry Weasley

by saraht0ga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Language, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraht0ga/pseuds/saraht0ga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I want someone unexpected, someone challenging. Someone who will be just as much of a surprise. Someone gullible. Out of all the men here at Hogwarts, I've narrowed my choices down to one lad: Ronald Weasley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This has been posted in its entirety at ffnet, but since I am new here, I wanted to post my favorite story of those I've written. Draco/Ron stories are usually in short supply, so hopefully there are some other oddballs around here that love my favorite pairing as well.

In trying times, I tend to look for a scapegoat. If I get bad grades, then it is obviously Potter's fault for making me want to practice so much more at Quidditch. If I get into a fight, it was obviously the other person who started it. If I start liking men, then it is obviously the fault of all the women at Hogwarts for being so substandard.

Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.

You see, only recently I've discovered that most of the women here don't... interest me. Not even the slightest. It's not that they're all ugly. There are quite a few that are Witch Weekly cover material. And it's not like they're awful people. Honestly, am I one to judge anyway?

It's just that they don't have that certain something I want in a partner. I've only recently realized that the "something" is a Y chromosome.

So I've been debating for the past few days as to how to break it to my father.

My father isn't a bad man. Sure, he sometimes indulges in a mass torture or two, but when it comes to me, his son, he's a pretty good father. He buys me things, gives me advice, promises me a place of power should the Dark Lord take over, and generally accepts me for who I am. As long as I'm a miniature version of him.

I swear I'm not as brainwashed as I sound. I know that You-Know-Who is a bad guy. I may agree with his ideals in some sense, but his method is just too messy. If I were to go for what he's attempting, I'd do it in a much more subtle way. Try to get in with the ministry and change some stuff from within, or something equally sneaky.

So I know my father is doing some bad stuff. And I know that he likes me when I'm acting like him. What I don't know is how he'd react if he knew that I'm not quite the man that he wants me to be.

He expects me to graduate, get the Dark Mark, and marry some nice, pureblooded witch and start having some nice, pureblooded babies. Which is not going to happen.

How do I squash the hopes of the man whom I've looked to as a role-model for my future for 17 years?

That's my problem. I don't know the best way. The way that won't get me a Howler announcing to the school that I'm a flaming homosexual.

The way I see it, there are a few options.

The first option: Just tell him. This one scares the hell out of me. If I tell him in person, I have to be there for the initial reaction, which I'm sure will be anger. There's no telling if he'd just yell at me, or throw a hex or two. I don't want to risk it. I'd rather be a closeted gay man than an out gay man with no "equipment".

The second option: Write him a letter. I don't really like this one because it seems too... poetic. A heartfelt letter from a son to a father, begging for acceptance. Ha. Right. Plus that'd most definitely get me a Howler. Which is almost as scary as getting hexed.

The third option: Let him hear it from someone else. If I get into a relationship with a nice bloke here at school, it's guaranteed that it'll be passed around like wildfire. The legendary sex-god, Draco Malfoy, gay! The cries of the broken-hearted women will be heard across all of Britain.

A man can dream, right?

Anyway, the only other option I can think of is just being in the closet. And I can't have that. I'm a young, attractive, gay man in his sexual prime, and abstinence is not an option.

Afterall, Slytherins need love too.

So far, I'm thinking of going with the third option. The only problem with that is... I'll need an eager young man to assist me in informing the world of the new, openly gay Draco Malfoy. But I want someone unexpected, someone challenging. Someone who will be just as much of a surprise. Someone gullible.

Out of all the men here at Hogwarts, I've narrowed my choices down to one person: Ronald Weasley.

Now I know he isn't the portrait of manliness that I am, but for some reason women seem to like him. The goofy boy-next-door persona, I guess. I'll admit the red hair is nice, but the fact that he has six siblings with the same exact shade of red sort of ruins the effect. It's not nearly as unique as one would hope.

Physically, I suppose he could be attractive. He's tall and has a skinny physique. He used to be very gangly and seemingly disproportional, but he's grown into it nicely. He's pale, but the freckles make up for it. They're everywhere it seems, and perhaps in my endeavors I can find out for sure. I also want to know the same thing about the red hair.

...damn. Years of no male attention have left me less than picky. I'll try not to slip again.

Weasley's personality is similar to a firecracker. He's got the temper of a hornet. Honestly, you crack one joke about the lad's mum and he takes it personally. I suppose that could be used to my advantage. If he's passionate about hating me, it could be manipulated into him thinking he's passionate about liking me. And being a teenage boy, if he isn't gay then he's probably at least sexually-confused. I'm rather lucky to know for sure.

Anyway, he does have a sense of humor. Perhaps it isn't the same sarcastic, insulting sense of humor I have, but if I want I can appeal to the "goofy/pun" sense of humor. I may despise it, but I'll do anything for the cause.

I'm determined to win Weasley over. And then I'm determined to make sure it's spread all across the school, finally making its way to my father through some random resource he's using to keep tabs on me.

Where shall my plan start? Well, my next class is with him. Maybe Professor McGonagall will find a reason to give us both a detention. Not that I would try to give her any such notion. I'd never be that sneaky. Unless I was a Slytherin.

Oh, that's right. Then let the battle begin.


	2. The PrePlan

I entered the Transfiguration classroom, practically bursting with excitement. I had a greater swagger in my step than normal, my confidence was through the roof, and I looked  _damn_ good.

So, my plan. I planned to somehow make sure I had a detention with Weasley so that I could start the plan to win him over. A plan to start a plan. A pre-plan, if you will.

What I hadn't decided yet was how exactly to go about getting detention. I sat down in my usual seat when an idea hit me. I stood up quickly and left the room again, getting a funny look from McGonagall. She asked me where I was going and I gave her a mock-frantic look and said, "Loo." She raised an eyebrow, giving me one of those, "I know you're up to something," looks, but I just whimpered a little and after a sigh she motioned for me to go.

I ran to the loo and stood in front of the mirror smirking for a moment and checked my hair. Perfect as usual. I hadn't put my stuff down, but if I got back to the classroom after a lot of people were in there... I wouldn't have much of a choice where I sat. The Slytherin side always filled up and one of us always had to sit on the Gryffindor side. So, today I'd be that Slytherin.

I had no way of knowing it would work out so perfectly.

The late bell rang just as I walked in, and McGonagall ignored my entrance. I looked around and to my surprise (and pleasure) the only empty seats were on either side of the Terrible Trio. (I didn't name them that, I think Pansy thought of it. Believe me, I would've come up with something much wittier.) So, I obviously chose the better seat for my plan.

I sat down next to Ronald Weasley and gave him a cheerful smirk. He groaned and turned to look at his two friends, who turned to  _me_  and glared. I just kept smiling and took out my notebook for the class and a quill.

I sat quietly for the first half of class, which was nothing but McGonagall giving notes. Near the end I was getting restless and, without meaning to, muttered, "There are really only so many ways of explaining the differences between transfiguring a living tree and a dead block of wood. I envy them both for not having to listen to this bloody lecture." I heard a snigger from next to me and looked over, wide-eyed, to see Weasley covering his mouth.

He looked at me and, realizing he was laughing at a joke I had made, quickly sobered up. I smirked when I noticed his ears going red. Perhaps this would be easier than I thought.

Thinking quickly, I decided now would be the time to provoke him and earn that detention. "I'm surprised you understood that, Weasley. Afterall, I was under the impression your intelligence was at the same level as a block of wood."

His ears turned brighter red, and I noticed his hands ball up into fists. I smirked more and whispered, "It's almost poetic, how similar you are to a tree. Thick. Boring. Abnormally tall."

I saw and heard Granger lean over and whisper, "Ignore him." I feigned writing down notes as McGonagall passed by, then took the next opportunity to lean over again.

"That's right. Listen to the mudblood. Though... she does have rather nice branches..."

That was it. Insulting him and then making a lewd comment about his precious Granger. That pushed him over the edge.

He turned and practically shouted, "Shut it already, Malfoy!"

The entire classroom silenced at that.

"Mr. Weasley. Is there a problem?" McGonagall asked, making her way over to our side of the room.

"Malfoy was... provoking me..." he muttered.

I looked at her innocently and said, "I was only talking about the wood, Professor."

She looked back and forth between us, from Weasley's bright red face, to my feigned-innocence. Finally she rested her gaze on Weasley and said, "I do not appreciate your interruption of my lesson, Mr. Weasley. I'll see you in detention after dinner tonight, where you can acquaint yourself with the different types of wood by organizing my cabinets."

With that she turned to walk away.  _"No!"_  I mentally screamed. This was supposed to be a detention for the both of us. I quickly tried to think of something that would make her give me detention as well. Something bad... anything...

Then it hit me. Like a ton of wood.

I leaned over to Weasley and hissed loud enough for her to hear...

"What a  _bitch_."

The classroom erupted into gasps from the Gryffindors and laughter from the Slytherins.

Without turning around, McGonagall added, "You can join him, Malfoy."

My face burned from the attention and unnecessary use of profanity in front of a teacher, but inside I was quite pleased.

Detention with Weasley.

Brilliant.

I looked over at Weasley, who was glaring at me. "Great," he whispered when McGonagall's attention was elsewhere. "Now I have to spend  _more_  time with you." I smiled and said, "Don't look so disappointed."

After some silence I leaned over again and said, "I don't  _really_  like Granger's branches anyway."

He made sure McGonagall wasn't looking again and whispered, "I always knew you were a poof."

I smirked and whispered, "Takes one to know one."

"So you admit it?" he said.

"And you don't deny it?" I asked, with a false innocence.

He looked at me and glared, searching my face for truth. Had I just come out to him? Or was I joking? I raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him.

He opened his mouth and began to speak, but what he was going to say I never found out.

The bell rang, his friends dragged him away, and I was left standing alone in the Transfiguration classroom.

Perhaps I'll ask him in detention. Pre-plan accomplished.


	3. The Detention

The rest of the day seemed to pass slower than Crabbe's mental processes. When dinner finally arrived, I was too nervous and excited to eat. Although I didn't really like Weasley that much, the thought of contact with another male left me feeling rather excited. Not "excited", mind you, but just with a huge swarm of butterflies beating their wings within the confines of my stomach. Somehow, my dim-witted companions noticed the lack of consumption.

"Gonna eat that?" Goyle asked, pointing at the slice of turkey on my plate. I shook my head and went into a slight daze until I was interrupted just a few minutes later.

"How 'bout that?" Crabbe inquired, already stabbing the potato lying on my plate. I motioned for him to continue taking it and tried to continue pondering my plan until I was interrupted yet again.

"And tha-..."

Before they could ask, I pushed my plate towards them, took a last swig of pumpkin juice, and stomped out of the Great Hall. Honestly, what kind of friends are they? I'm obviously bothered, and all they care about is whether or not they can have my food. Idiots.

I headed towards the Transfiguration classroom, not caring whether or not I arrived early for the detention. I was ready to get this over with, but at the same time couldn't wait to spend the extra time with Weasley. It had only been this morning that I decided he would be my victim... I mean... the object of my affection, but already I was quite attached to the idea of having him around. I mean, he must be good company. Why else would Potter and Granger have kept him around so long? I know it isn't for his money.

When I entered the room, I saw Weasley already off in the corner looking into a dark, dusty cabinet. I groaned loudly and was about to turn around and leave, realizing now that my plan wouldn't be furthered too much if I was in a bad mood from working all evening, until a hand came down on my shoulder.

"Looking to start the detention early too, Mr. Malfoy?"

I looked up at the old witch and, with a voice dripping with sarcasm, replied, "I couldn't think of a better way to spend my evening, thank you, Professor." She smiled at me and patted my shoulder, before pointing towards the corner that Weasley stood in.

"The two of you are to do inventory on the supplies in the cabinets. Mr. Weasley already has the list of things that should be there. You are to re-write and update the list, dust the shelves, organize things alphabetically, and get rid of things that are defective. Understood?" I nodded mutely, and was then pushed into the room. As the door closed behind me, the old hag added, "You may leave when you are finished, or at midnight, whichever comes first."

As soon as the door was closed and the footsteps of Professor McGonagall faded, Weasley turned on me, quill in hand. "This is all your fault, you prat," he declared. I shrugged and picked up the parchment on the desk behind him. It was the inventory list. I noted with a distinct lack of enthusiasm that the list was at least three feet long. I groaned again and threw the paper down.

"This is cruel and unusual," I said. Weasley rolled his eyes and went back to peering into the cupboard hesitantly.

"Just get to work. We can finish this and be done with each other. No need to spend extra time together," he muttered. I stared at the back of his head and wondered if that was how he really felt. Oh well. The real question for that is... do I care?

The answer?

No.

So, it's safe to say that I was determined to spend as much time with Weasley as possible.

I wrote slowly, dropped things, dusted badly so he had to re-do it for me, and pretended to forget my alphabet.

"Now... does 'G' come before or after 'F'?" I asked innocently. I jumped as the fiery redhead next to me slammed the cupboard door shut.

"Malfoy! Are you really that much of an idiot?" he bellowed. I shrugged and held up the model of a griffin that was in my right hand, and the bag of feathers that was in my left. He walked over, grabbed them, and put them on the shelf with the feathers before the griffin. "Does that answer your question?" he asked.

Seeming to ponder for a moment, I scratched my chin and said, "Are we alphabetizing from left to right or right to left?" Before I knew what was happening, I was pinned to the ground by a very angry Gryffindor.

I caught his first punch, but wasn't so lucky with the second. It caught me in the chin and left me seeing stars momentarily. I kept a good grip on the first fist and managed to grab the second as he tried to use it to wrench his other hand from my grip. "You bastard! Why won't you just get the work done and stop trying to bother me?" he yelled, struggling to get out of my grip.

I threw him off me and began rubbing my chin, using my other hand to point my wand at him. "Me the bastard? You're the one that attacked me while my back was turned!" He tried to get at me again, swinging his fists wildly, but I cast a quick "Petrificus totalus" his way. I stood over him, my wand aimed at the dead-center of his chest. "Look here, Weasley. I may put up with quite a bit, being a Slytherin and all, but one thing I will not tolerate is a punch to the face. No one punches a Malfoy in the face." I met his gaze evenly and stared daggers. I was very close to giving up the whole game when I heard him let out some sort of muffled noise. I removed the spell and was struck dumb. He couldn't be... but he was.

Weasley was laughing his arse off at me.

It was the whole shabang. He was clutching his sides and rolling back and forth on the floor in a fetal position. His entire face was red as he wheezed and laughed, trying to regain his breath. It was some sort of demonic laugh, that one only does when one is in private. The noise issuing from the redhead's mouth could only be described as a series of squeals and giggles.

I couldn't help myself. The corner of my mouth, which was previously hanging open in surprise, quirked up into a slight smile. With every heave of his chest, the corner moved up a tiny bit more. When he coughed from laughing too hard to breath, I let out a small "Ha!" myself. Somehow, without realizing what was happening, I began laughing as well.

I don't know if it was the way he was laughing, the fact that I was in shock at being punched in my gorgeous face, or realizing how silly I had sounded when I defended my face to him, but I was laughing harder than I ever had. I had to sit down from the guffaws wracking my entire body. I knew I sounded as ridiculous as my fellow prisoner.

It was probably a good five or ten minutes later when we had both regained composure. We each had our back turned on the other, neither of us wanting to admit the moment we had just shared. I had honestly never laughed like that before. Not with my family, not with my "friends", not even with that odd hobo that I met once when I was hiding from my father in Knockturn Alley. Finally, feeling it was my duty as the instigator of the whole situation, I turned and looked at him.

I only caught the profile of his face, but the way the light hit it and caused the shadows to form in just the right places and angles, I knew for sure I hadn't given up on him as my vict-I mean, the object of my affection. Perhaps I'd even enjoy the whole fiasco, if he cooperated. I was just about to say something, anything to break the silence, when he turned to face me. What happened next was probably the most unexpected thing of the night.

McGonagall opened the door.

I never found out what he was going to say, but I did manage to scribble out a note while McGonagall told us off for sitting on the job, and slip it to him before we left. It simply read, "I hope you don't normally shriek like that in public," but I felt it got the message across.

Somehow... I think I may be developing a real interest in Weasley. That was not part of the plan.


	4. The Plan Changes

The night after the detention I shared with Weasley, I was lying in bed thinking.

I think I am actually beginning to develop some feelings for the stupid Gryffindor. That's not good.

That's very not good.

That's very, extremely, bloody well not good.

I'm a moron.

Why did I choose someone so... so bloody noble? I had gone into this whole plan thinking I could just have some fling, my father find out, cuff me on the shoulder and say something about silly teenagers, and go about my business out of the closet and happy.

That wasn't going to happen.

Stupid Weasley won't come near me if he doesn't think I actually like him.

When my father finds out, he'll murder Weasley and... well, he won't murder me, he expects me to bear him a grandchild.

But he isn't above using the Cruciatus on his own son.

Damn.

I'm a complete moron.

So what do I do now? I have to continue the plan. If not for the fact that I do actually think I could stand being around Weasley a bit more, then for my own sanity. If I don't start using my youthful "energy" then I may very well go mad.

I'll continue the plan, only with a slight difference.

I will actually make Weasley like me.

And no one will know about it.

The next day in Charms, I couldn't be happier when Flitwick paired me up with Weasley. I pretended to look unhappy with the situation, knowing it would look suspicious to anyone else if I looked otherwise.

"I think you two can be adults and overcome your differences, don't you?" the old dwarf said, smiling cheerfully the entire time.

He turned away to continue pairing people up before he could see the look of utter contempt Weasley shot at his back.

We found a place to sit together and Weasley immediately turned towards the board, avoiding me completely.

Hm. So you won't look at me. That's your game. You're going to avoid me. Nice try.

Oh, wait. He's actually reading the instructions. I knew that.

Our assignment for the day was to practice emotion modifying charms. Not too difficult. We had done Cheering Charms before. It was the same basic thing, we just had to concentrate on the emotional energy we sent behind the spell.

I was suddenly worried that I was working with the most hot-tempered, bipolar, idiotic Gryffindor in the room. Bollocks.

"I can only imagine that you're feeling a bit... unhappy?" I suggested cheerfully.

The redhead turned and glared at me as fiercely as he could manage. "No Malfoy, I'm happier than a first year in Honeydukes."

"Good then," I said, and pointed my wand at him and muttered the Cheering Charm before he could react.

His features immediately changed and he smiled at me.

"I hate you, Malfoy," he said happily. I smiled back and said, "I'm glad you feel that way, Weasel." He couldn't stop smiling, and I was so amused by the effect of my spell that I didn't notice him raise his wand until he had cast the spell on me.

Sad. Depressed. Oh dear God, merciful Merlin, why was I happy before? The world was a dark and evil place, and I was merely a pawn on my father's chess board.

I nearly let a tear sneak out of my eye when I saw Weasley still smiling broadly.

What's he so happy about? I wish I were a Gryffindor. Then I could be with Weasley, and my unrequited love would be fulfilled and my life wouldn't be so hopeless.

Then it hit me.

He charmed me.

I sniffed, wiping my sleeve across my eye and said, "Weasley, take this damn spell off me before I jump off the Astronomy Tower."

He grinned, if possible, wider at that. "Y'know Malfoy, if you had said that in the first place I wouldn't have needed the Cheering Charm."

Thankfully, he raised his wand and took the spell off. I did the same to him, nearly cursing him in the same breath.

Damn Weasley.

I had something in my eye.

That was it. I glared at him.

If he wasn't so damn cute, smirking at me so devilishly, so pleased with himself...

Oh bloody hell, no. He is not cute. Stupid brain...

"For a moment there I could almost envision you as human, " said Weasley, smirking. Somehow I detected a sense of truth in the statement.

I examined his face, and sure enough there was a serious air about him. Were his feelings changing about me as well?

"And what am I normally?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

He looked thoughtful, and after a short pause turned to me and kept my gaze firmly. "You're an arrogant, conceited, immoral snake."

I was deadpanned.

Had he really said that?

Had he seriously just insulted me that badly, when I thought something meaningful was going to come out of his mouth?

Damn it Weasley, if I wasn't starting to like you I would curse you right now.

I quickly schooled my features into a glare and said, "Better than a foolhardy, ignorant, oafish babboon."

He glared back at me, and I could practically feel the electricity in the air.

Then he smirked.

What the hell?

I'm not the one who's going mad. It's this bloody idiot in front of me.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," he said, and trailed off. I looked at him, incredibly confused. I had no idea what to think of him. One moment he's insulting me worse than I think I've ever been insulted, and the next he's looking utterly adorable, tilting his head to the side, that ginger hair looking dashingly messy, those clear blue eyes with a hint of amusement behind them.

Damn it, Weasley. What are you doing to me?

I opened my mouth, not even sure myself what I was going to say, when Flitwick cleared his throat loudly.

"That's it for class today. You will be tested next class on your ability to cast the spell with various emotions, so I hope you all practiced."

Weasley, seeming to realize that he had been so open with me (of all people) for a moment, gathered his things and left quickly. So quickly, in fact, that he left Granger and Potter behind to glare at me confusedly and hurry after him.

I shook my head and looked down at the book in front of me.

"What am I going to do about him?" I questioned it. The book, seeming to know it was wiser to keep its mouth shut than incur my wrath, kept quiet.


	5. The Prefects

I  _think_  Weasley may be avoiding me. It's a slight possibility. He only completely freaked out the last time we spoke and ran out of a classroom without his best friends.

Maybe it's a little more than a slight possibility.

Despite his best efforts, I know that I'll see him this evening before dinner. We have a prefect meeting.

He is a prefect for Gryffindor.

I am a prefect for Slytherin.

Is there anything pointing to it not being meant to be?

I mean, besides the whole "us hating each other for our entire knowledge of each other's existence" thing.

Anyway.

The prefect meetings are always the most dull affairs. When I entered the room, I noticed that Weasley was safely seated between Granger and MacMillan from Hufflepuff. As much of an idiot as he is, sometimes the bloody Gryffindor can be quite clever.

That was  _not_  a contradiction.

Shut up.

I zoned out for most of the meeting, going from staring at my shoes, to staring at a weird painting on the opposite wall, to staring at my fingernails, to staring at Weasley, to staring furiously at my shoes again because he noticed I was staring at him. I stopped my thorough examination of the room when I heard my name and Weasley's name in the same sentence.

"What?" I asked, looking up at the head boy. He's an idiot. So much so that I never bothered to learn his name. Just in case you were wondering my opinion of him.

"I said you and Weasley are patrolling together next Tuesday."

Tuesday. That would be... Let's see, today's Friday... so... a few days.

I'm not that bad at math, I'm just excited.

Oh bloody hell, I'm  _excited_  about being with Weasley. Something is  _really_  wrong with me.

I don't think I used to curse this much. I suppose liking a Gryffindor does that to you.

Before I could be too happy about it, however, a voice piped up across the room.

"Um, I'd rather not be paired up with him."

I glared at the offending person and it was... Weasley. Of course. Who else would've said it?

I think his stupidity is rubbing off on me.

Before the troll in charge could respond, I cleared my throat.

"What's the matter Weasley? Don't want me to see that you're afraid of the dark hallways at night?"

He glared back at me, but before he could say anything, Granger interrupted.

"Ron, I really don't think you should complain so much. I mean, the rest of us have had our turn having to patrol with Malfoy."

My mouth dropped open.

They HAD to patrol with me? Like it was an obligation. Like it was a bad thing.

"Granger, what are you-"

"Shut up Malfoy." I glared at the stupid bushy-headed mudblood.

No one tells me to shut up.

I pouted in my corner and she turned back to Weasley.

"Honestly, Ron. You've gotten out of it every other time."

Am I really that bad?

He shrugged and sulked for the rest of the meeting, while I pouted for the rest of it.

Can't anyone see my wonderful charm, good lucks, and quirky sense of humor?

I suppose not. It's because I'm a Slytherin. Damn them.

I left the meeting, still in a rather pouty frame of mind. I had no idea all the other prefects had disliked patrolling with me so much they tried to get out of it. It was a chore to patrol with me. It was a sacrifice they all had to make, to take turns patrolling with me.

Prats.

Just because I played a little prank on MacMillan that one time and he was bald for a week doesn't mean I'm  _that_  difficult a person to patrol with.

I had gone about halfway to the Slytherin common room when I heard someone walking behind me. Quickly. Someone trying to catch up with me.

I turned suddenly, brandishing my wand, only to see it was Weasley.

"Couldn't wait to see me?" I asked, smirking at him and lowering my wand slightly.

I had lowered my guard just enough for him to attack me and pin me to the wall. What is it with this violence? First attacking me in detention, now attacking me in the hallway. You'd almost think I did something to make him dislike me.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," he hissed through gritted teeth.

I stared at him incredulously. "Me, leave  _you_  alone? Excuse me Weasley, but unless I'm horribly mistaken,  _I_  am the one trapped against a wall here."

He narrowed his eyes and I was sure I had never seen him so angry. I hadn't been that bad at the meeting, had I?

Honestly. I hadn't been trying to make him angry back at the meeting. I had no idea what this could be about.

"You bait me. You  _always_  bait me. Then I either look like a fool or a raving lunatic."

I was speechless. I do bait him. I do it on purpose. It's very true that I like getting a reaction from him.

"I'm sick of it Malfoy. Leave me alone."

Then I saw it. Something behind his eyes. Some feeling I couldn't put my finger on.

He liked me too. And he didn't want to.

Before I could say anything, he pushed me away so hard that I stumbled and nearly fell and stalked off.

That bastard, I almost fell.

Malfoys do  _not_  get pushed down in a hallway.

That just doesn't happen.

I'm going to go plot revenge. I need to have something to think about.

Anything but the struggle I'd seen behind his eyes.


	6. The  Closet

Weasley has  _definitely_  been avoiding me. I know for sure this time.

How do I know this?

Well, perhaps it's because when I walk into the Great Hall, he immediately leaves.

Or perhaps it's because he was mysteriously ill the day we had Transfiguration together.

Or it could even be the fact that I walked into a crowded corridor, looked up and saw him on the other end, saw his eyes widen, and saw him turn around and run in the opposite direction.

And I mean run in the literal sense.

The one thing he couldn't avoid, though, was the patrol on Tuesday night.

I walked through the hall smirking to myself. I had thought of a plan that was pure evil, pure genius, pure...  _Slytherin_.

When we met in front of the prefects' office and meeting room, Weasley didn't meet my eyes. "I thought I could patrol the floor above and you could check the dungeons," he muttered, looking anywhere but at me.

I smirked. I couldn't help but be amused by the idea of my truly brilliant plan which I would execute tonight.

"Alright," I said. He looked up out of pure surprise.

"What?"

"I said alright," I repeated slowly, raising my eyebrows as if he were the one acting abnormally. He gave me a calculating look, shrugged his shoulders, and turned to walk the other way.

I did go to the dungeons, but I immediately took a shortcut and backtracked through the upper hallways until I knew I had to be ahead of Weasley. I hid in an alcove in the wall behind a tapestry and waited.

I'm a genius, you know that?

Weasley is now off guard completely. He thinks I'm giving him space. Ha. How wrong he is.

When Weasley walks by, I'm going to sneak behind him for a couple of steps, and then drag him into the empty classroom next to the alcove. There, I will confront him and convince him that he cannot resist me as he has been trying to.

Or, that was my plan.

Weasley passed by.

I stepped out quietly.

I followed for a couple steps.

I pointed my wand at the door to open it as soon as I had grabbed a hold of him.

Three.

Two.

One.

It had all happened so fast that I was kind of in shock of it myself. I had grabbed Weasley's arm, opened the door with a spell, and dragged him in.

I pulled him a bit too hard, I think. Since he wasn't expecting the sudden backwards force, he toppled back onto me and we both landed on the floor of the classroom.

As I fell backwards, I grabbed for something to keep me up and all my hand reached was the door knob.

The situation currently?

I'm sitting on the floor. I'm holding a door knob. Ronald Weasley is sitting across from me.

We are not in a classroom.

We are in a broom closet.

Damn it all.

"What the  _hell_  were you thinking, Malfoy?"

"Isn't it obvious? I thought this broom closet would make a nice place to rest."

"Malfoy."

"I thought the non-flying brooms were a lovely decoration."

" _Malfoy._ "

"Don't the spider webs in that corner give it a quaint feel?"

"MALFOY! ... _spider_?"

"Yeah, over there... wait, Weasley, are you afraid of spiders?"

"Shut up Malfoy. Open the door."

"I can't."

"Neither can I, I dropped my wand."

"That's not the problem."

"What do you mean?"

I threw the doorknob at him.

"Bloody hell, that hurt," he cursed.

I smirked in the dark.

"...is this the doorknob?"

The smirk was trying to turn into a laugh. "Yep."

I heard shuffling and then felt his foot against my leg. More shuffling and then I yelped in pain.

"You bastard, you kicked me!"

"Oh, that was you? Oops."

"You're a bad liar. Sit down."

"You can't tell me what to do, Malfoy!"

"What else are you going to do?"

Silence. I would've smirked if my leg wasn't throbbing. That was going to bruise. Damn Weasley.

More shuffling and then he sat down. "Don't you have your wand, Malfoy?"

I felt in my pocket. Sure did. "Nope."

"Fuck."

"Language, Weasley."

"Fuck you."

"I see you're the gentleman I expected."

Silence for a moment. Very small amount of shuffling. "I'm giving you the finger."

I grinned. What an idiot. "Classy."

Neither of us spoke for a while. This isn't helping. How do I start a conversation with an angry Gryffindor who I'm trapped with in a small space? He could easily hurt me. Again. I rubbed my leg where I could feel a bruise forming.

"You know, I didn't know this was a broom closet," I said nonchalantly.

"And that is supposed to help the situation how?"

"I don't know. I was hoping we'd have more room. And light. And that you wouldn't have kicked me."

I heard him stifle laughter. So hurting me is funny, is it? I would've kicked him if I wasn't trying to convince the big oaf to like me.

"What happened to your wand?" I asked.

"I had it in my hand when you nearly yanked my arm out of its socket. It's probably right outside. Or it could be in here and I just can't see it because it's bloody dark."

I smiled. "There might be a pull string light or something from the ceiling."

"I already felt around for one. I'm not as stupid as you think, Malfoy."

"Hm."

"What?"

"Just thinking."

"Thinking what?"

I pulled my legs up close to me so they wouldn't be where he expected. "You underestimate how stupid I think you could be."

He kicked out and missed me, but hit a broom that fell on my head.

"BLOODY EFFING..." I stopped and threw the broom, managing to hit him with it as well.

"MALFOY!" he shouted as the broom finally clattered to the floor.

"You started it."

"You pulled me in here."

"Touche."

"What?"

"Idiot."

Silence again. Why couldn't I stop insulting him? I was never going to get anywhere at this rate.

He broke the silence. "I think I'm bleeding."

"What? Where?"

"My head where the broom hit it."

Ouch. I felt guilty. Stupid Weasley. I reached into my pocket and felt my very expensive Chinese silk handkerchief. I sighed and threw it at him.

He jumped and gasped. "It's a handkerchief, not a banshee," I said, my voice full of amusement.

He muttered something I could barely make out.

"You thought it was a spider?"

"Shut up Malfoy."

More silence. This was going nowhere.

"Why did you pull me in here?" he asked.

"I told you, I thought it was a classroom, not a-,"

"Why did you try to pull me into a classroom, then?" Clever Weasley.

I didn't know what to say. I shrugged, then realized he couldn't see it. "Why were you avoiding me?" I asked, averting his question.

"We hate each other. Now answer my question."

"Maybe I don't want to hate you." Hm. That was actually a good answer I thought.

Weasley didn't seem to think so though. "Maybe the feeling isn't mutual."

For the first time in this whole plan, I felt like maybe I didn't have a chance. My confidence level dropped for a moment. But just a moment. "Come on Weasley, you can't resist my natural charm."

He chuckled at that. I'm making some headway here. If only I could see...

"Tell me something, Malfoy," he said.

"What?"

"Why should I trust that you want us to... stop hating each other? For non-evil reasons?"

I thought about it for a minute. I couldn't possibly tell him it was because I was developing a crush on him. I hadn't even convinced him he was gay yet.

"Perhaps because I'm not nearly as evil as you seem to think I am."

He snorted. "So says the son of one of You-Know-Who's top Death Eaters, who is most likely a Death Eater in training himself."

So that was it. Of course they all thought I was going to follow my father. I suppose I should straighten that out. I should've known Weasley wouldn't be into the bad boy persona.

"I prefer not groveling at the feet of a hypocrite, thank you," I said, glad he couldn't see my face. I was getting a little uncomfortable with the conversation. I didn't want to reveal too much information about my family and their ties. He may be a bastard, but Lucius Malfoy  _is_  my father.

"Hypocrite?" he asked.

"Voldemort is a half-blood," I said. He didn't seem surprised.

"I see."

Silence again. This was going to drive me mad. I hoped Filch showed up soon.

I couldn't stand it. I had to say something. "How's your injury?"

"I think it's stopped bleeding," he said. Ew. I didn't want to touch that handkerchief any time soon.

I noticed a small line of light coming through the crack in the door. I moved towards where I thought Weasley was and ended up bumping my head on a shelf. "Ow," I said, rubbing my head and still trying to find him.

Weasley laughed and I could tell he was more to my left, so I turned more and moved towards him.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" he asked.

"I see a crack of light coming in. Hold on." I found his shoulder and moved him so that I could see one of his eyes. "Where's it hurt?" I asked.

He held up his hand and I continued to move him until I could see a smear of red. Ew. It was gross. I squinted in the dark to examine it and could tell it was just a small cut.

"I think you'll live," I said, sitting next to him against the wall.

"Here's your ha-,"

"Keep it," I said quickly. Ew, blood.

He snorted. "Afraid of a bit of blood, Malfoy?"

"It's gross. I don't want your Gryffindor germs getting all over me more than they already have from grabbing your arm."

He laughed at that. A real laugh, not as mad as the hysterical laughter in detention, but a normal laugh. It was nice.

Alright. Too many Gryffindor germs in an enclosed area. I'm getting sappy.

I felt his eyes on me and turned so I could see one of his blue eyes in the crack of light. "What?" I asked, uncomfortable with the stare.

"I found the crack of light," he covered quickly, turning to look off into the dark.

I tilted my head and looked at him, now seeing the other eye. The same shade of crystal clear blue.

He turned to me and looked thoughtful and confused at the same time. "Malfoy," he said.

"Hm?" I asked, realizing I was staring at his lips. I couldn't stop though. It was like some sort of odd Slytherin magnet was stuck to them, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

To my surprise, he leaned towards me a little. I held my breath, waiting for the contact.

And Filch opened the door.


	7. The Corridor

Filch. I'd murder the old, greasy Squib.

Weasley found his wand right outside of the door and then practically ran away.

I glared at Filch and left for my own dormitory.

I'm sure Weasley was leaning in to kiss me. I was so ready for it too.

Damn hormones.

Damn Weasley.

Most of all, damn Filch.

The next day was the day we had Charms with the Gryffindors.

I had been confident that we would be split into the same pairs. That is, until Flitwick discovered a new philosophy. "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Variety is the spice of life?' So today, your partners will be..."

That's about the point that I stopped paying attention. I was paired up with Blaise Zabini, who was unbelievably horrible at the emotion charms. All he did was make me extremely confused as to whether I was ecstatically happy or darkly depressed.

Believe me, it's even more unpleasant than it sounds.

I felt emotionally drained after the class, not only from the disappointment of the night before but from the incredibly wide, uncontrolled range of emotion Zabini had charmed into me. I packed up slowly and began the seemingly never-ending journey to the Slytherin common room.

I think I'll spend the evening lazing about the Slytherin common room... perhaps I'll threaten the house elves into sneaking me some butterbeer... torture some first years... It will certainly be a productive eveni- _ARGH_

"What in the name of MERLIN!" I yelled as someone dragged me aside to an empty corridor.

I reached for my wand but whoever it was appeared to be one step ahead of me and grabbed my arm.

"LET ME GO!" I yelled, starting to thrash about and struggle to get away. Whoever it was, though, was stronger and bigger than me. I did all I could think of. I kicked backwards as hard as I could.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, that  _hurt_!"

"Weasley?" I asked incredulously. Oh. Well. I wouldn't have kicked quite as hard if I had known. Or, at least I would've made sure it wasn't to his manhood. That's something I don't want in bad condition.

Sorry.

He let go and pushed me away, making me curse under my breath. What was it with him and trying to make me stumble about? One of these days I'm going to fall and... well. Let's just say that a Malfoy being tripped would not be a pretty picture.

The actual tripping would be graceful, believe me.

It would be my reaction to being tripped.

Damn Weasley.

"What do you want?" I asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"I..." He looked flustered. "I just wanted to... talk to you I guess," he ended lamely.

"I know I'm ridiculously good-looking, Weasley, but you don't have to kidnap me into an empty corridor," I said smugly.

He looked even more flustered. It was quite cute actually.

"I didn't kidnap you, and who pulled who into a broom closet yesterday?" Before I could interrupt and defend myself he continued, "That doesn't matter. What I wanted to say was... er... well..."

"That you couldn't help yourself when you saw me walking out of class, so innocently beautiful, and decided to drag me down an empty corridor and attack me?"

"No, Malfoy, shut up. I wanted to tell you that, well, I know that we've always hated each other-"

"Except you didn't hate staring at me in class because of my perfectly handsome good looks, wonderful body, and amazing sense of style?"

"No! Malfoy, I'm trying to tell you that the past couple of weeks have made me realize-"

"That my gorgeous grey eyes and platinum blonde hair have left you speechless?"

"Malfoy, if you don't shut up I'm going to-"

"Snog me senseless?"

That was it. His breaking point. Before I knew it I was against the wall. Why did I always end up pinned to something when Weasley was around?

I braced myself for the punch that was coming but... it didn't come.

I tilted my head, opening an eye just enough to see him staring at me.

"What?" I asked, actually baffled as to what he was planning.

Then he kissed me.

Oh bloody  _hell_ , did he kiss me.

All of the anger and emotion that he had just a minute ago, all the feeling that I thought had been him losing his temper and wanting to hurt me, was put into that kiss.

When the shock subsided, I kissed back furiously and wrapped an arm around his neck. My pent up feelings of frustration and confusion towards my developing crush seemed to surface and demand to be part of this. He's really quite a bit taller than me and it was hurting my neck to look up so much, but I didn't particularly care at the time.

I felt one of his hands make its way to my hair and nearly protested that he was going to mess it up. He muttered, "Shut up, Malfoy," against my lips and kissed me harder.

This was exactly what I'd imagined. I had almost lost myself in the kiss completely when he pulled away and stepped back.

"What..." I gasped in protest. "Weasley," I started, but he shook his head.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said.

"Why not?" I asked. He stared at me as though I'd grown another head.

"We're both...  _guys_ ," he said, as though I didn't know. I raised an eyebrow as if to say, " _So_?" and he shook his head again and started down the corridor.

"Weasley, wait," I said, following him. He sped up, so I did as well, calling his name again.

"Damn it. RON!" I yelled. That got him.

He spun around on his heel and said, "Look, Malfoy, I'll... I'll talk to you about whatever the hell just happened another time. I need... time to think."

I was dumbfounded. I wasn't getting what I wanted. This is not how it's supposed to be.

He walked away and I just stood there, unsure of what to do.

Damn it, Weasley.

Don't you know that Malfoys are  _always_  supposed to get what they want?


	8. The Gryffindor's Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look into Ron's thoughts on all that's happened...

Oh dear Merlin.

I kissed Malfoy.

Why on earth would I do something so horrible and...  _gross_?

There was something seriously wrong with me and I needed to figure out what.

Boys do not kiss boys. Unless those boys are poofs. And I most certainly am not a poof. I love women. I mean, I've had crushes on women all the time. Fleur in fourth year and... and... well lots of others! I don't need to justify my sexuality. My  _straight_  sexuality.

Another very important mistake with this whole calamity is that Gryffindors do not, under any circumstances, kiss Slytherins. She may be the most fit Slytherin you've ever seen, and she may come onto you, but you  _do not_  kiss her. That is against the rules. It's just, well, wrong!

I ran back to the Gryffindor common room to find Hermione. Even if I didn't give her all of the details, she would know what I should do. She'd tell me how to figure out how to not want to kiss a Slytherin anymore.

I'll just leave out the fact that the Slytherin happens to be a bloke.

And Draco Malfoy.

Ew. I've just had a shiver of disgust.

I think.

When I walked in, Hermione was sitting in a corner with a few books around her. Good. I wanted to talk to her alone. If Harry was around, I'd be too embarrassed to discuss the topic of a forbidden snog.

I sat down across from her to try and catch my breath and noticed she was doing homework. Oh. Well she won't want to talk to me. I continued to sit there just for the sake of sitting with one of my best friends when she finally looked up and said, "What do you want, Ronald?" She only calls me that when she's frustrated. Damn.

"Well, I wanted to talk about something, but since you looked busy I was going to wait."

She sighed and shut the book in front of her. "I won't be able to concentrate with you sitting there. Go ahead."

Go ahead? Like it was an easy subject to just jump into.

"Right, well, er... It's... That is to say, I... and someone else... and I don't know what to do... because Slytherins... and you know the rule..."

"Ron, make some sense."

"Oh, okay. Er... IkissedaSlytherinandnowIdon'tknowwhattodo."

I saw her put a hand on her forehead, as if she didn't know what to do with me.

I cleared my throat and said, "I mean... this is hard for me to say Hermione, I'm a bloke, I don't confess my feelings."

"You have a bit of a crush on someone?" Now she was interested.

I shrugged. "I suppose you could say that. I... well, there's this Slytherin..." I glanced over to gauge her reaction, but she just looked interested. Alright then. "And I've been sort of... having odd feelings about this Slytherin for the past week or so. Today I had been planning to try to talk to the Slytherin after Charms, but when I pulled h... uh, that is to say, the Slytherin aside, I ended up kissing... them."

That was difficult. You never realize how much easier it is using certain pronouns until you need them.

I looked over, all of the worry and confusion etched plainly onto my face, and saw that Hermione was biting her lip. Good, she's thinking of a way to help me.

"Do you like this Slytherin?" she asked. I snorted. Doesn't she know about the rules?

"It's a  _Slytherin_ , Hermione," I said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes. And do you like... them?"

I thought about it for a moment. Did I actually like him? I mean, I was able to tolerate him more lately. And I  _had_  kissed him. Perhaps I had some feelings hidden that I didn't know about until he seemed to be pursuing me. I had always had a sort of passion towards him I guess, but it had only been anger before. I sighed heavily. "I don't know. Maybe?"

Hermione shook her head and sighed herself. "You're too confusing Ron. It's not a difficult thing to figure out. Why would you kiss this Slytherin if you didn't have some feelings for him?"

I shrugged. "A heat of the moment sort of thing?"

"Ha!" she exclaimed. I looked at her as though she had gone mad. What's so funny at a time like this?

"So it  _is_  a him. And I'm sure I know which him it is. Ron, why didn't you just tell me it was Malfoy? I can understand your confusion much better now."

I gaped at her. Speechless. How had she figured it out?

"It's a bit obvious, Ron. I  _am_  around you all the time, and I noticed how you objected to being partnered with him for a patrol. I also noticed that you've been very quiet since that patrol, so I knew something happened. If he had hurt you or cursed you or something equally nasty, you would've ranted about it non-stop."

I nodded. She was right. I was glad to have  _someone_  who knew how I was feeling and be able to decipher it into logical words and phrases.

But this whole thing is pretty illogical.

Hermione grinned at me, obviously amused by the internal torment I was feeling. I glared half-heartedly at her. "Talk to him," she said, "and if he feels the same way, perhaps you can... test out the relationship a bit?"

"What do you mean by test it out?" I asked.

"Well, I doubt Malfoy will want the whole school knowing he's...  _gay_ , and you aren't quite sure yourself, so... you could just have a sort of secret rendezvous every now and then and see how you feel."

I nodded. She made sense. What's a rondayvoo though?

Whatever.

She giggled and I looked over, glaring once again. "You're just so confused. It's adorable."

I glared and stomped off to my dorm. She shook her head as I went, but I didn't care.

I am  _not_  adorable when I'm confused.

Besides, I need to plan something.


	9. The Forest

For the first time in my life, I was afraid.

After Weasley walked away, I was sure he'd never speak to me again. Much less kiss me again.

That had been good.

Anyway, I had grown quite attached to the blasted Weasel and I didn't intend on losing him just because he was confused.

I was pleasantly surprised, after all those negative thoughts, to see him walking towards me with a confident air about him. And some sort of bag in his hand.

"Weasley, I-"

"Shut up, Malfoy. Follow me."

He was so damn confident I couldn't help but follow him.

We walked through the halls and out of the front door out onto the grounds. My eyes widened in surprise when he plunged into the Forbidden Forest. There was no way in hell I was going in there.

"Weasley, you're mad," I said, my shock at the idea of going in there evident in my voice.

He turned to me and smiled. That bloody smile would've convinced me to dye my hair brown and pretend to be Granger's brother.

I followed him in and realized we were on a trail, which was somewhat comforting. We had walked for about five minutes in silence when he stopped suddenly and announced we had arrived.

I looked around and didn't notice anything interesting until Weasley moved forward and I was allowed through a gap in the trees. In front of us was a small clearing where the grass was short in patches and filled with various wild flowers. It was nothing spectacular, just a clearing in the middle of a very thick forest, which I suppose gave it a bit of a quaint feel.

Weasley was looking at me to gauge my reaction and I shrugged. "Wicked?" I tried. He rolled his eyes and walked to a particularly large patch of the shorter grass and sat down on the ground.

I walked up and gave him a look that told him how I felt about sitting on the ground. "Afraid to get your robes dirty?" he asked innocently.

Yes, I am actually. These are very expensive robes and if they are messed up my father will murder me.

My father.

Fuck him.

Bloody hell, Weasley certainly turns me into a veritable fountain of curse words.

I sat down quickly and eyed the bag in Weasley's hand curiously. He pulled out a few containers that were opaque enough that I couldn't tell what was inside them. I realized what was going on when he pulled out dishes and bottles of butterbeer.

"Have you just taken me out on a picnic, Weasley?" I asked, my eyebrow raised skeptically. His ears turned red and I realized that had been the plan.

"Oh, well. Wonderful," I said, feigning excitement. He shook his head and a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Can't you ever just take something for face value and be happy with it?" he asked, opening up the containers to help himself to food. He had nicked it from the kitchens and was not going to let it go to waste, even if I was being an arse.

Completely ignoring what he said in favor of seeing what food he had brought, my eyes brightened happily. My favorite food!

"Brilliant, shepherd's pie," I said, and began putting some on my plate.

We sat there silently for a few minutes, both eating and contemplating the current situation.

Why had Weasley brought me here? To impress me? The view wasn't that great, and the food was the same food I'd had nearly every day for seven years.

Then it hit me. He  _was_  trying to impress me! Just by showing he cared about me a bit.

I looked up at him then in a whole new light. He had stolen food from the kitchen, snuck into the Forbidden Forest, and braved my cynicism and insults just to try to show me that he had decided to not completely dislike me.

"Thanks, Ron," I said quickly and quietly. I wanted him to know I appreciated it, but I wouldn't go overboard. I  _am_  still a Malfoy.

I looked up from my plate and saw him smiling at me. I knew my face was slightly flushed from embarrassment at the small amount of emotion I had shown him. It was something I wasn't used to. I both liked and disliked it at the same time.

We ate in silence and when we were finished, cleaned up the mess together and stood. I didn't know what was supposed to happen next. Do we talk about liking each other? Do we kiss? Do I tell him to owl me?

He answered the question for me by taking my hand and beginning to walk back. Not for the first time in the past couple of hours, I was utterly shocked.

We walked together comfortably, though there was a bit of tension in the air from the unsaid things we were both thinking.

"I'd like to give it a try," Ron said. I looked at him curiously. "Us, I mean," he clarified. His ears were red. He was serious.

"We'll have to keep it secret," I said, watching to see if that hurt him. He just nodded. He knew as well as I did that a relationship between the two of us was something that couldn't happen in public. At least not with the current situation outside of Hogwarts grounds.

I stopped abruptly and he looked at me questioningly. "This is mad," I said, completely seriously. He laughed and I grinned, the first real grin I think I've ever done.

"I suppose it is," he said. I leaned in then to kiss him, having wanted to do so again since we stopped the night before.

It was much different than the one from last night. It was tentative, shy, almost as though we were asking each other with our actions if this was alright.

Hell no, it's not alright. And I know it isn't. But I want it to be.

I kissed him a little harder and cupped his cheek with my free hand. It may not be right, but I'm going to bloody well enjoy it while it lasts.

We parted after a moment, both of us slightly out of breath, and exchanged nervous smiles.

Damn it, why does he do this to me? I've never felt this way before and I don't like not being in control.

We continued walking, the tension now lifted so the air was clear.

We stopped right at the edge of the woods and looked at each other. We both knew we had to resume our usual act the moment we left the safety of the woods.

He squeezed my hand, and then let go. When we walked out of the forest that day, I was happier than I had ever been.

And as confused and frustrated as the whole thing left me, I wanted more.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson was a nosy witch. She knew it. The whole population of the school knew it. She just liked to know what was going on, and if that meant asking everyone for everything they knew and exchanging her own information for it, then so be it.

So when Pansy witnessed two people who supposedly hated each other exiting the Forbidden Forest together, she knew she had some wonderful gossip to bargain with.

"How much did Lucius Malfoy say he'd pay me for information on his son's indiscretions?" she asked herself, curiously.

After all, a father has to keep an eye out for his son. If that meant being sneaky to find out when he needed to appropriately punish his son, then Lucius Malfoy was willing to do whatever it took.

Pansy smiled to herself and walked to the Owlery with a new skip in her step. She had been eyeing a new set of dress robes in Hogsmeade, and this information would definitely get her the money she needed.


	10. The Owl

Weasley and I continued to meet in secret for the next week. A quick snog in that broom closet Filch caught us in, a little playful insulting in Charms and Transfiguration, and once we even stayed up half the night when we had classes the next day just to sit next to a big window somewhere near the Divinations classroom that we found while "patrolling."

It was overall going fairly well. We acted as we had before, I'd insult him and he'd turn red and say, "Fuck off, Malfoy" and then we'd snog and it'd be over with.

I knew that since I was finally really happy with a relationship, something bad was bound to happen.

I knew exactly what when a rather large silvery grey owl flew through the window into the Great Hall on the morning before everyone left for Easter break.

"Shit," I said. Pansy looked at me curiously, almost too curiously, and asked what was wrong for me to use such grotesque language. Only she didn't use the word grotesque. I'm not even sure she'd know what it means.

"It's my father's owl. He doesn't write to me unless he's angry," I explained.

"Oh," she said airily, and I just shrugged it off as her being a twit.

I ate quickly and left for my room, holding the dreaded letter tightly. Ron must have sensed that something was wrong because I heard him call my name when I was halfway down the stairs towards the dungeons.

"What's up?" he asked, a little winded after having to run to catch up with me.

I held up the letter and said, "It's from my father." His eyes widened to the size of Quaffles.

"You don't think he knows, do you?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I have no idea how he would. Who knows besides you and me?"

He was quiet for a second too long. "Weasley, who else knows?"

His ears were red. Damn. Who did he tell? "Just Hermione," he said. I sighed in relief. Granger was smart. She wouldn't go spreading it around to anyone who might tell my father. "And I want to tell Harry," he added.

No. Potter enjoyed attention too much to be able to deal with such a secret. "Not Potter," I said. He narrowed his eyes and asked, "Why not?"

"Because I don't trust Potter yet," I said.

"I do. With my life."

I shrugged it off and turned to walk away, calling over my shoulder, "Do what you want. He's your bloody friend. Good luck."

That was the wrong thing to say. Why can't I control my tendency to be an arse?

"Shut up, Malfoy. He'll accept me, even if I told him I... if I told him I wanted to be a girl and move to Sweden."

I laughed and turned to face him. So he isn't as angry as I thought. "Whatever," I said, and walked back to him and ran a finger down his jaw-line. "If you trust him then... well, I still don't trust him. But I suppose I can always blame you if it gets out."

He laughed slightly and placed a quick kiss on my forehead. "Want me to be around when you read the letter?" he asked.

I looked down at the now crumpled letter in my hand. Did I? If it were bad, I might need Weasley to comfort me.

I mean. I'd need someone to insult to make myself feel better.

That's what I meant.

Anyway, if it were nothing important, or something my father thinks is important but really isn't, then it wouldn't matter anyway and it might be an unnecessary chance that we could be caught by someone.

"That's alright. I'll tell you what it says later."

"Alright," he said. He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly which caused me to roll my eyes at him. He smirked at me, which he had picked up surprisingly quite well from me, and then turned to go the other way towards his friends. I sighed. I didn't know how Potter would react, but I hoped it wouldn't be in some sort of explosion that caused the school to wonder about the trio. If they started snooping about in their business, then everyone might find out about our secret.

I made it back to my room and opened up the letter apprehensively. It was more likely that I had done something wrong without realizing it than this being something seemingly unimportant. I read the letter quickly and sighed with relief.

It just said that he wanted me home for Easter break to meet some important people. This meant I had to lose time with Ron, but at least I wasn't in trouble.

The next day was spent packing things for the long weekend. I packed quickly so that I could say goodbye to Ron in a secluded area before having to board the train, and probably packed less than I ever had for a break. He had decided to go home with his younger sister, Potter, and Granger since I wouldn't be there and his mum had invited them to spend Easter there, so I had made a fuss out of how he had better pack fast. If he was there before me, that would come back to haunt me. And Malfoys are never proven wrong.

We met for just a few minutes in our usual broom closet (is the irony of the situation obvious to everyone else?) to do things that I thought were very girly such as hug and kiss as though we wouldn't see each other in years, when really we'd be back in just a few days.

He told me to write him if anything bad happened. I told him to write me if he became intelligent. We hugged again and left, going our separate ways.

We boarded the train separately, sat in separate compartments, and then exited the train without even acknowledging each other's existence. It was quite sad, but having learned to keep my face neutral for my entire life helped me with that bit. I overheard Ron say something about just being anxious about getting to be home again for a bit.

I saw the glint of the sun reflecting off of the white-blonde hair that could only belong to someone from my family, and made my way through the crowd.

I was surprised to see my father, rather than looking apathetic to his surroundings, looking slightly flushed and with something hidden in his eyes. He wasn't looking at me, I realized, and noticed his gaze landing on something over my shoulder.

Shit.

Shit shit  _shit_.

Weasley.

He was looking at  _Weasley_.

He turned his glare on me, and through gritted teeth told me to touch the Portkey in his hand. I knew I couldn't refuse, so I touched the cane he was holding out to me, knowing this wasn't going to be the relaxing break I had hoped for.


	11. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chance to catch up with the Gryffindors

When Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and I arrived at the Burrow, we were greeted by my mum hugging each of us till we choked. My dad patted Harry and me on the back and gave Ginny and Hermione fatherly hugs. Fred and George refrained from touching us due to having just tested some random failed prank that had turned them green and caused them to grow quills like a porcupine.

Despite the warm welcoming, I was bloody nervous. I knew that while we were away from Hogwarts and had a few days where Harry couldn't murder Draco, I had to inform my best friend since first year of my newfound homosexuality and relationship with our school enemy.

So I had a good reason to be nervous.

Hermione kept giving me funny looks, and I should've known that she'd be able to figure out something was up. When we were putting our things away, she dragged me aside and hissed, "What's wrong with you?"

I whispered back after making sure no one could hear, "I'm telling Harry." She nodded understandingly, obviously approving of my desire to be honest with the bloke. He  _was_  the third musketeer afterall.

Hm. The Three Musketeers. That's a good name for us. Better than the Terrible Trio. Seamus called us that once, and it's rather... unoriginal. Almost like something a Slytherin might come up with.

Well, not  _my_  Slytherin. One of the other, more stupid, ones.

Anyway.

I turned to walk up the stairs to my room and found myself facing Harry.

He was looking between the two of us questioningly, and finally said, "Tell me what?"

Crap. He heard me.

"Er..."

"Not here," Hermione said, always the voice of reason. I nodded and followed her and Harry up to my room.

Once the door was shut and we all felt secure, Harry turned on us with a mad glint in his eye.

"What aren't you telling me now? Are you two together finally? You could've told me, I wouldn't have felt awkward."

Hermione and I were both speechless. We looked at each other and then back at Harry. I knew my ears were red. I hate that. Anyone can tell when I'm embarrassed by looking at my ears. They're like... giant beacons of embarrassment. And I can't even hide it.

Believe me, I've tried.

Damn Weasley genes.

Hermione looked at me again and then started laughing, which really set Harry off. "Look, you two have obviously had crushes on each other for  _forever_ , so it's not like it was a huge leap to figure it out."

Hermione was laughing even harder. I glared at her. How dare she find such a situation amusing?

"Harry!" she gasped between hysteric laughter, "You are so completely wrong it's hilarious!"

I glared at her even more. I hoped my training with Draco was showing. I was putting all my effort into that glare. She laughed more.

Damn her.

"You... look... like...  _him_!" she said, barely able to breathe.

"Ignore her, mate," I said, walking over to him and sitting down on my bed.

Taking my lead, he sat next to me and said, "If you two haven't been sneaking off snogging, where've you been going, and he looks like who, and what the hell is so funny?"

My eyes widened. Wow. Harry is way more observant than I thought.

"Er, well, you see... you really are completely wrong. Like, dead opposite."

He tilted his head, silently asking me to continue.

"I don't know if you... er... ever noticed that I was... a bit...  _different_  but..."

I couldn't continue.

"Ron, just say it," Hermione said, exasperated and still breathless from laughter.

I ignored that she had said anything, but continued nonetheless.

"I... well, I like blokes."

Silence.

"Okay," he said. He looked at his feet, contemplating this new information, then looked up at me again. "That's alright I suppose. I mean, whatever floats your boat."

What the hell was he talking about? What did boats have to do with this? I almost asked him when Hermione piped up with, "Muggle expression."

Oh. Well.

Whatever.

"The... the thing that you're not going to like is... well..."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked. He was interested now.

"Er, yeah. Someone you don't like."

He looked at me, not daring to guess.

"Malfoy."

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

"WHAT? MALFOY? YOU COULD'VE HAD ANY BLOKE IN HOGWARTS AND YOU CHOSE  _MALFOY?"_

"Shhh, Harry, mate, quiet! Nobody else knows!"

"BUT WHY THAT GIT?"

"Harry, please, quiet down, Ron doesn't want his family to know yet."

"EW! THAT'S... DO YOU KISS? I MEAN, OH MERLIN THAT'S JUST HORRIBLE. WHY?"

I stared at my feet. I knew he would react like this. Malfoy knew, anyway. He told me not to tell him. Why didn't I listen to him? I should've known this wouldn't have gone like I had hoped...

"Ron. That's pretty gross. But... whatever."

I looked up. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, as long as he doesn't turn you into some evil ferret minion, or try to hurt you or anything, then... whatever. I just don't want to be around him."

I grinned. There's the Harry I knew.

"Thanks mate."

There was a slight sniffle across the room, so Harry and I turned to look.

Hermione was sniffling. Hermione was on the brink of tears. Hermione was rushing towards us and tackling us into a big, girly hug.

Ew.

"IT'S JUST SO ADORABLE! THE TWO OF YOU HAVING A HEARTFELT CHAT, AND RON COMING OUT, AND... IT'S JUST SO ADORABLE!"

"Shut up, Hermione! Can't you take your own advice and NOT inform my whole family of this whole situation?"

"BUT IT'S SO... SO...  _ADORABLE!"_

"Hermione, really, be quiet. If they didn't already hear me then I'm sure they heard you..."

A sniff. Then a whisper. " _Adorable_."

I rolled my eyes. Girls.

Later that night I wrote down a little note to send to Malfoy. It was with Fred and George's owl so there was no way Draco's dad would know who it was from. All it said was, "He's okay with it. You were wrong."

I was just about to send it when another owl flew in.

Draco's owl? Why?

I took the note from it and saw a note just about as short as my own, but with an entirely different message.

" _He's kicked me out. I'm in Diagon Alley. See you after Easter_."

Fuck.


	12. The Confrontation

I knew the moment I saw my father looking at Weasley that I was in trouble. Not just, "Draco, you've been a bad boy, go to your room," kind of trouble. Huge, gigantic, "Draco, get the hell out of my house  _after_  I hex your bollocks off," kind of trouble.

Didn't I say before I wanted to make it through this with my  _down there_ bits intact?

Oh well. If I can live I suppose that will be enough.

When we landed from the Portkey, I stumbled a bit and nearly fell. When I was younger, my father always grabbed my shoulder to keep me from falling.

Bloody hell, he's angry.

"Draco."

Oh shit. He only uses that voice when he's about to curse a house-elf or one of his moronic Death Eater buddies is about to be tattled on to the Dark Lord.

Shit shit  _shit_.

At least Weasley taught me to curse appropriately for a situation such as the one I'm in.

"Be in my study in fifteen minutes."

I nodded blankly. Fifteen minutes. That's how long I had to live.

Shit.

I think that's going to be the theme word of the day.

I practically flew to my room and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. I scratched out a quick note and sent it off. That'll come in handy.

I threw some important things into a bag, shrunk it, and stuffed it in my pocket.

That was it. That was all the time I had.

I ran to my father's study, knowing being late would only heighten his anger. After a moment's hesitation in which I debated simply running away and assuming I was disowned, I raised my hand and knocked quickly.

"Come in."

I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door. My father was sitting on the opposite side of his desk, perusing some papers. It almost looked like it was a normal day in the old Death Eater home office, that is until I had stepped in far enough for him to point his wand at the door and cause it to slam behind me.

I gulped.

He motioned towards the chair in front of him, steepling his fingers below his chin and looking more intimidating than I'd ever seen him.

"Do you know what you've done to cause me such grief, Draco?"

Play dumb or not?

I shook my head.

He narrowed his eyes and threw a tattered piece of parchment at me. It had obviously been read many times.

I scanned the letter and swore mentally. That bitch, Pansy. I should've known she was in on this when she acted too stupid after receiving my father's letter. If I survived this, she _would_  be sorry.

I looked up at him and met his gaze. I didn't know what he wanted me to say. I couldn't deny it because he would know I was lying. I couldn't confirm it because… well, I wanted to live.

"Is it true?"

Ah. So we're being upfront, are we?

I nodded slowly.

I jumped as he slammed his hands onto the desk before him.

"Draco, are you a complete idiot? Our Lord will not put up with such… disgusting behavior! You are my heir, the  _only_  heir to the Malfoy name, and you dare drag it through the mud by…  _associating_ with a dirt-poor blood traitor?"

I looked at the parchment in my hands, not really seeing it. Just get on with it… Throw me out, curse me, whatever.

I looked up at him after a long period of silence and met his eyes again. There wasn't just anger in his eyes, but disappointment. I didn't know which hurt worse.

"Choose. The filth or your family."

I gulped, thinking quickly. Weasley or Malfoy. Poor and moronically reckless, or rich and powerful.

Someone I thought I could fall in love with, or my family who never seemed to spare a thought of love for me.

A future of… happiness? Maybe? Or a future of kneeling at the feet of a hypocritical "Lord" whose dirty work I'll be doing for the rest of my life?

Ha. That's easy.

When I looked up again, he knew what I chose.

"Get out of my house."

My eyes widened. I had been expecting it, but… hearing it like that…

"NOW!"

I jumped up and ran for the chimney. I flooed immediately to the Leaky Cauldron, knowing I could get a room there for the rest of the break.

After I'd settled into the dust-covered room, I took out two pieces of parchment. I penned a quick note to Weasley to let him know of my current situation. The second note was to Gringotts, letting them know to do as my earlier letter had warned.

After all, I'm of legal age, so it's my right to lock my own vault from any outsiders,  _including_  my father. I suppose that's what he gets for giving me my own portion of the Malfoy fortune before I had fulfilled the duties he wanted of me.

I lay back on the bed, not really believing that I had gotten off that easily.

I still had all my body parts, I wasn't beaten to a pulp, and while I wasn't insanely rich I still had enough funds at my disposal to live comfortably for a few years after graduation.

To say that I was a bit afraid when I woke up to someone banging on the door in the middle of the night would be an understatement.

I jumped a couple feet into the air, grabbed my wand, checked my hair in the mirror, and opened it a crack to see who was there.

"Damn it, Weasley," I muttered before opening the door completely. I was inwardly very relieved to see his flaming-red hair rather than the white-blonde of my father's. One meant safe, the other meant pain and wondering, "Why, Merlin, did I answer the door!"

He walked in and threw his arms around me.

"Weasley…" I warned, not wanting to become emotional. If I can hide the frustration, it doesn't exist. If he squeezes it out of me… I don't know how I'll react.

"Shut up, Draco," he said, pulling me flush against him. I sighed deeply, unable to resist the affection. My eyes are burning. This isn't good.

"Weasley, I don't want to-"

"I said shut up. I'm here. Just act like you want me to be."

I was stumped. Did he think I didn't want him there?

With a resigned sigh, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my nose into the crook of his shoulder.

When will Gryffindors cease to amaze me?


	13. The End

The rest of the break was spent being surrounded by flaming red hair and lots of food. By lots of food, I mean  _insane_  amounts being forced in front of me by a very persistent mother who insisted I was "much too thin."

I gave in most of the time, eating until I was sure I'd be sick, just so the old witch would leave me alone. The fact that Ron gave me an infuriatingly fond smile every time I gave in just a little more had absolutely nothing to do with it.

The last day of break before we had to return to school, I found myself outside by myself for the first time the entire long-weekend. I sighed peacefully.

The loving family atmosphere was comforting in a way. To be able to see so many happy people in one setting, not because they had money but because they had each other, was something I hadn't been familiar with previously.

I wasn't familiar with the constant noise, chaos, and attention either.

I sat in the grass in a particularly clear part of the woods next to the Weasley home and sighed again. It was actually rather nice. I had always thought that everyone would be depressed from financial depravation, or from the threat of You-Know-Who. I was surprised to see both assumptions proved wrong. Though the family was obviously not rich, they lived amongst each other somewhat comfortably in their mediocre financial state. They didn't have the most wonderful things, but they had enough to be content. You-Know-Who was actually mentioned only once the entire time I had been at what they called "The Burrow." It was in passing, as though he wasn't threatening their very way of life.

It was a little disconcerting to know he wasn't a constant force, looming in the background of the happiness the family seemed to have. I knew they must worry about him, but they somehow managed to separate that worry from their daily interactions.

Another nice point to this whole insanity.

I think I'd only been sitting by myself for a few minutes, pondering life as I previously knew it and life as the Weasleys had shown me, when I heard footsteps. I whipped my head around and saw my favorite of the Weasley lot walking towards me, a goofy grin on his face.

I rolled my eyes, both at the look on his face and the thought of him being my "favorite" Weasley. To think I actually liked any of them enough to have one favored above the rest. Ha.

"Mum was worried," he said, plopping down on the grass next to me. I rolled my eyes again.

"I am old enough to take care of myself, you know," I said, knowing it sounded somewhat childish as I said it. Whatever. I'm a Malfoy, I can sound childish and still be devilishly attractive at the same time.

"Of course," Ron said, giving me an infuriatingly "knowing" smirk. Pffft. Like he knew my personality well enough to give me that look. "She still thinks you're too thin."

My mouth dropped open. "What? I'm sure I've gained horrific amounts of weight since I arrived here, and I'm  _too thin_?" Batty old woman!

He was grinning wider. I narrowed my eyes at his obvious amusement at my situation. Knowing I was right on the edge of being outraged, he said, "You have not gained horrific amounts of weight, and if I have to keep assuring you of your thinness I'm going to start to think I'm actually dating a girl."

That did it. "Fuck you, Weasley," I growled, pouncing on him.

We wrestled in the grass for a few minutes, until finally he actually  _tried_ to overcome my lack of strength and had me pinned down. "You're kind of cute when you're angry, Malfoy," he muttered, holding my wrists tightly above my head.

I glared. "Don't patronize me," I hissed.

He rolled his eyes and said, "I don't know why the hell I put up with you."

I thought about that for a minute and shrugged as best as I could in the current situation. "Because I'm amazingly handsome?"

He chuckled a little and said, "Perhaps it's because all you can seem to ever think about is your own vanity?"

I tried to appear pensive for a moment, and then shook my head. "No. It's because I actually  _am_ extremely good-looking."

He rolled his eyes again and let me go from my helpless state. "Git," he said.

"Prat," I replied.

I never thought I'd receive a punch from Weasley immediately followed by a mind-blowing snog, but then again I never thought I'd be welcomed into the Weasley home in the first place... or disowned by my father... or, for that matter, that I'd ever even realize it was an option to be openly  _that way_  and consider dating a Weasley.

I really never thought I'd be happy like this. This is what happiness is to me after all. An angry Weasley.

An angry Weasley snogging my brains out in the middle of nowhere outside of his house full of very strong older brothers who would beat me to a pulp if they witnessed this horrendous act of sexual depravity occurring between their innocent younger brother and an evil, ridiculously handsome Slytherin.

Sometimes I seriously wonder about my sanity.


End file.
